Going home
by adele.teras
Summary: Something happened and the friendship between Stiles and Scott, the best buds, is over. Stiles leaves Beacon Hills and with the help of the structure that the Army provides becomes a major badass. A series of accidents leads him back home but he is not sure whether he is welcomed. A story will unwind that will explain everything. Slow-burn Sterek. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

When Stiles woke up at an uncivilized hour of that fateful morning after his alarm clock started buzzing, he did not expect to have a day that he was going to have. Blissfully unaware that his life course was about to be thrown off the rails he packed his backpack with his usuals: his standard issue military combat knife laced with Mountain Ash, his camera, hisflashlight and rope that he had stolen from his dad's garage earlier that day, a pair of walkie-talkies and extra batteries that are reminiscent from the days when Scott and he coordinated 'spying missions' to establish whether the milk man was stealing Melissa's morning newspapers; as an afterthought he added his books that he would be needing later when his current mission was finished and he actually needed to attend school.

He did not need to think much what he needed to take with him because after the Alpha pack had rolled to town a month ago these at-the-crack-of-dawn-assignments had become a norm for him. Not unlike the missions he carried out to spy Melissa's nefarious milk man a decade ago, he was paired up with Scott to basically lurk around the Alpha pack's known whereabouts and to gather information. They took photos of everyone coming and going from these locations so they would be able to identify the members of the rival pack. Their own group had been divided into pairs and given schedules and locations they needed to scout out on a regular basis. Jackson was with Erica, Danny was with Boyd, Derek was with Allison and Peter gladly stayed as a one-man team. The pairings were odd at first for some but Derek stated smartly that they all needed to learn how to get along, trust each other and work together. It turned out to be a great idea, the pack dynamics was better than ever. Stiles got to spend some buddy-time with Scott again and the others learned about each other's quirks and foibles.

They had not seen any kind of action yet but Stiles knew better than to feel comfortable; so he always packed the usual stuff: his knife, his camera, his flashlight, his rope, his walkie-talkies and an insane amount of food. Speaking of which, he now remembered to grab the chocolate bars, chip bags, soda cans and a small pack of liquorice that Scott loved dearly (see? Stiles is an awesome best friend because he knows that Scott always forgets to bring anything edible) from the kitchen cabinet.

All set, he sat in his beloved jeep and took off towards the rendezvous point that was a block from the building they were keeping an eye on for the evening. He parked his car and went smiling towards Scott's car and gingerly knocked on the window. There was a loud bang and a moan coming from the car and the window was rolled down.

'STILES! I have told you bzillion times! Do NOT scare me like that!' He was panting and clutching his chest with his eyes trying to pop out of his skull.

'And I have told you NOT to sleep when you are on a mission, you have to be careful. This is the area where the Alphas are known to roam. Besides, I thought you have super hearing and whatnot.' Stiles was still softly smiling with a glint in his eyes, waiting for a response.

Scott squinted and glared, it was obvious that he was struggling with a counter argument. He had always had trouble waking up early and he needed to be commended that when it came to missions Derek sent him on he was almost always on time. Stiles thought that a witty banter in that ghastly hour was a tad bit too much to ask from the poor fellow.

'FINE, whatever dude, just hop on so we can get a move on.' Was the sharp comeback from the grumpy Beta. He lazily wiped the drool that had gathered to the corner of his mouth during his power nap and turned to face the front of the car again.

Stiles grinned and jumped on.

'Soooooo, what kind of mood are we in when it comes to the stakeout music?' asked Stiles going through the stacks of CDs that were lying on the back seat. Without waiting for a response he started to name the artists while he was sifting through the mess that was Scott's car.

'We have … Chris Cornell, Eminem, Incubus... not that one, not that one, Santana, Slash... THAT is positively disgusting buddy, you need to throw out the old pizza, if I put a slice of that on a petri dish I could probably make a breakthrough in some field of bacterial ...' He did not finish his sentence. It happened to him often, there are too many thoughts and basically mind vomit that needed to be said that the sensation sometimes overrides his mouth's motor functions. He closed his mouth and blinked once, twice and just left the thought in the air. He picked himself up quickly and continued with his previous thought:  
'… Ray Charles mm no, we listened to that last time … Queen … We need to get some new tunes man, we have gone through these ten times over now…' Stiles rambled on with Scott giving him a wary look.

Stiles was usually all over the place, concentrating on ten different things at once and talking about the eleventh but he was always oddly aware of others and reading into their gestures and mimics. Sensing that his friend was bothered by something, he stopped mid-sentence and asked:

'Hey, what's wrong, buddy? Am I too loud for the hour again?'

Scott just sighed, ran a hand over his face and said: 'Naawh man I am good, just reaaaalllly tired. Mom was on the phone with that asshat again yesterday and it didn't go well, she was crying until like 3 AM and I couldn't sleep after that. I still can't believe she is dating that douchenozzle and trying to make the long-distance thing work.'

Whilst he was talking they had reached their target; it was an old scruffy factory building that was not in use anymore after it was shut down due to failing the safety inspection. Boyd had reported a week ago that some of the suspected Alphas had entered it and stayed inside for hours. Scott parked the car across the road and stared into the darkness. There was a meaningful silence during which Stiles took a look at his best friend. He had had a rough couple of months. His mom had started to date this real estate agent that had properties all over which meant that he was away most of the time. He had seemed nice enough but over time his lousy and disrespectful attitude towards his mother had led to nasty confrontations between the two men. Melissa was determined to work it out but it was difficult when the guy was never there. But for better and worse … she loved him and did not want to give up on the relationship.  
On top of that, Scott was also having trouble keeping his grades up, looking and applying for colleges, juggling the pack, his job, lacrosse practices and Allison. He just seemed to need a good night's sleep.

'I tell you what… This mission seems like a red herring to me. I am sure the Alphas know we are monitoring them. They would not lead us to their home base that easily. I am guessing they saw Boyd tailing them in his trademark unstealthy way and entered the first random building and legged it using the back door or something… You need to go home and have a couple of hours of nappy time before school. We have that big chem test we studied for, remember? I will stay and take a couple of snapshots of the perimeter for Derry and go straight to school later. I need to revise for the test anyways, the library will be open… And before you say it… I have my knife with me and if anything happens I will send a Bat-signal for back-up, okay, pumpkin?' By now both of them were smiling and Stiles knew that he had won the argument.

Scott seemed a little bit happier when he said 'Okay, thank you, you really are the freakin best friend a man can have. But if there is any and I do mean ANY sign of trouble, hightail it out of here asap. Promise?'

They looked into each others eyes when Stiles said: 'Promise. Okay, go now I will be seeing you later.'

'Seeya, dude!' came the happy response.

Stiles sighed and rolled his shoulders. After hearing the popping and snapping sounds coming from his body, he relaxed and started to walk towards the grey building. He really did not mind the solo-mission, especially if he could help his friend out. Staying into the shadows he walked once around the building, took out his camera and started taking shots of the object of his interest.

After half an hour he recapped his camera and started the walk towards his jeep when he heard a swishing sound, origin unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

A fracture of a second later he felt a strong pain coming from his left shoulder.

'STOP, NO DAD, IT'S STILES!' It was a high-pitched woman's voice that seemed to be in panic.

Stiles dropped and rolled like he was taught and hid behind a trash can. The hot-white pain coming from his shoulder started to dull a little bit. It started to pulsate and radiate a different kind of pain. His vision blurred for a second from the element of surprise but his pack-training was kicking into high gear. He tried to identify the origin of the assault whilst trying to find a safe way out.

'STOP, STOP, STOP!' It was the same voice again and this time Stiles was sure it was someone he knew.

He heard this mystery person running down the pavement towards him and he held his breath when the steps stopped.

'Stiles? It's me Allison, are you okay? I am SO sorry; there has been a terrible mistake. You can come out; we need to take you to the hospital. It is not safe here.'

Stiles puffed out a huge gasp of air.

'What are you doing here, Allison? It is not your turn to be on the look-out, it is mine and Scott's! Why on EARTH did you shoot me?' He stumbled when he was getting out from behind the dumpster.

Allison looked nervous; her dark hair was in a loose bun with strands of it framing her face. She said: 'There is NO time for this, come here, let's get going, NOW.'

He recognized the pure panic that was on her face and obliged. They started to speed-walk away from the small alley the dumpster was in. Suddenly there was a loud whistle that came from a roof top on the far right side of the street. Allison froze, she turned to Stiles: 'Take your knife out, we are going to be under attack in a matter of seconds!'

Stiles fumbled but got the knife out of his bag. This was it. He had no clue what was going on, but he trusted Allison and if she said they were in danger then he had to be prepared for the worst. Sure enough, low growls started to be heard from the two ends of the alley.

'Protect my blind side, help will come.' whispered Allison and turned towards one end of the street and swallowing slowly Stiles turned the other way. He had been training with the pack and he was sure he could stand on his own against most regular people and he would be able to hold off a werewolf for a while using simple but effective defensive moves but there were multiple growls to be heard. There was no way they could defend themselves against them all.

The last thing he could properly register was the sight of about dozen dark silhouettes standing at the either side of the street. After that everything happened so fast, too fast. He got flanked by four of them and when he turned to protect Allison, he got hit in the head by something hard and unforgiving. He dropped on the ground, he felt his shoulder throbbing and the world was like a whirlwind, he heard a distant shriek and all too familiar swishing sounds. Then blackness overtook his body.

He woke up to a white ceiling. The beeping. The smell. The buzzing and the throbbing.

'He's awake' someone whispered. He felt hands on his.

His eyelashes fluttered and it was hard, oh so hard to try to pry them open.

'Whhhat … happened?' He managed to croak out. He fixed his eyes on the figure closest to him and it seemed like his blurred vision started to clarify after immense effort by his brain trying to zero in on that person. It was Lydia. He smelled her perfume before he recognized her. She looked pained and her puffy red eyes held a look that expressed pure misery.

She started to talk how they got a call from hysterical Chris Argent who demanded that a werewolf would come and fix his little daughter up. When Derek arrived to the scene he witnessed a horrific picture: there were seven bloody bodies on the floor, arrows sticking out at odd angles. Six of them dead, one of them breathing, Stiles. The other body closest to him was held by the sobbing Chris Argent. The body had chocolate brown locks tied in a messy bun. There was nothing to be done. Even Derek could not turn a dead person into a werewolf.

Apparently Allison had informed her family about the Alpha pack and convinced them to help out and to set up a trap for them. Stiles turning up blew it and trying to save him, Allison had died seconds before the back-up arrived.

Stiles took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He closed them and prayed that when he opens them again it will all turn up to be a big mistake and it was another one of his nightmares.

Suddenly there was a loud BANG and he opened his eyes quickly, terrified that something else was about to go down and someone else was going to die. He saw the door of his room fly open and bounce back from the wall, white paint crumbling from the wall and furious Chris Argent stormed in.

'It was YOUR fault! You gave them an opening to get to her! You had to hold on for a MINUTE and you are not a MAN enough to even do that! It is YOUR FAULT my daughter has been slaughtered by those dirty ANIMALS! It is you and Scott who dragged her into this!'

He was going crazy, his eyes were bulging out of his eye sockets and he was shaking all over. His hands were in fists and there was spit coming from his mouth when he was yelling.

Jackson who was sitting in the corner of the room stood up and stood between them.

'I.. I … I am so .. sorry, it was my f-f-fffault, I am so sorry..' He tried to hold on the hot tears but they prickled against his eyes painfully.

'YOU ARE SORRY? Sorry that your clumsiness and idiocy caused her to DIE in my arms?!'

Three security guards chose that second to intervene. 'I am sorry sir, but this is a hospital, I suggest you leave right now or we are calling the police.' Said the first guy to enter.

Argent stood there, his fists on his side and he breathed audibly in and out, his chest rising and falling in sync. He looked straight at Stiles and said 'Go to hell, all of you!' and stormed off.

Sitles felt like there was an immense weight on his chest that stopped him from breathing, he couldn't breathe! He panted and panicked, he tried to search for help with his eyes and he met a set of rich-brown eyes that were so sad that it brought him back to the moment.

'Leave us' the owner of the sad eyes said. There was a soft shuffle of feet and then there was silence. Silence that sliced through Stiles like nothing else ever had before.

'Tell me what happened' Scott's voice was cold and seemingly impassive, Stiles knew better.

Stiles tried to explain but however he started, however he tried to remember, it all came down to a single fact: his incompetence to assess the situation, to call for help and react quickly enough directly resulted in Allison's death. There was no way around it and the more he talked the more he realized that everything he was saying confirmed that to Scott as well.

Scott continued with his ice cold impression: 'I thought you were taking a couple of photos and leaving right behind me.'

'I-I-I was but, but… I wanted to have more material for Derek and… and I wanted to have another look…' He trailed off babbling.

Scott was so calm. Eerily calm when he said: 'It was my fault that I left you there alone, I should have known better and that falls on me but you should have protected her long enough for the help to arrive. It might be unfair, unreasonable and cruel of me to say this but I blame you. I blame you for being weak and I blame you for not being ready, I blame you for not training hard enough, I blame you… I blame you….. '

His voice started to tremble and he looked away when he continued:

'I do not want to see you again. I do not want to speak to you again, I can't forget this… forgive this. It is impossible.' With that he left the room without ever looking back.

'I know, buddy… I-I .. know'


	3. Chapter 3

After that Stiles banned everyone from visiting him, except for his Dad. He decided then and there that he would fulfill Scott's wish and he would leave as soon as he is well enough.

He saw Derek once when he was leaving the school office after a meeting regarding to his transfer to another school for the end of the year.

At the sight of him, Stiles froze on his tracks. Derek was just sitting in his car, watching. After a while of mutual staring, Stiles realized that this is it. He is not coming over. This is it. They have cut him out of their lives. He is probably just making sure that he is in fact leaving and never coming back. He quickly took out his keys, fumbled a bit (damned those shaky hands!) and dove into the safety of his dear jeep. He put his car into gear and sped off without dreading to look into the back view mirror.

That had been the last time he saw any of them since. Eight years have passed. He is now 25 years old and he has buried his previous life. He locked it and buried it, never to be dug up.

It was so hot, blazing in fact and he was lying topless on his bunk, reading the Koran. He had been in this war for years now and he wanted to know what kind of force is hidden on these pages that inspires his enemies to sacrifice every drop of their and their families' blood to their endless cause. Being here has shown what true commitment looks like. He was trying to understand. He was trying to find inspiration.

'Sir, there is an urgent call for you through the satellite phone.'

He looked up from his book and sent a quizzical glance towards the soldier in front of him. This is unusual. Are these new orders coming in from way high up the food chain? That would be extraordinary; they already had orders, also secondary orders and a protocol to stay off line and under the radar for this particular mission.

'Alright private, dismissed.' He got up from his bed, pulled on a shirt, put on a pair of sun glasses and walked out of the soothing shadow of his quarters. His back was straight, his head was held high and passing soldiers saluted him every time he came into their view. He was the most respected, honored and feared man on Camp Phoenix. He and his Delta-Force team had been stranded in the nearest base to Kabul for a week now. They were ready to carry out the mission at moment's notice. The fact that the orders were delayed for a week was not ideal. The plan was to go in and get out without hanging around the base and be seen by regular troops but, alas, he still had a job to do.

The soldiers who were stationed there saw him as a proper hero, a true patriot and an ideal to look up to. He supposes he really is all that after years and years of pushing himself to never be weak again. But he also is so much less than that. He never wants to show that side of him to anyone ever again. He was determined.

He entered the communications tent and took his glasses off. Everyone in the tent took the time to greet him. Some of the new guys seemed intimidated. It is to be expected. He has turned out to be a big guy. The lankyness of his teenage years only hinted at the growth spur the kid would go through after the summer he left Beacon Hills. Combined his natural height with almost a manic training program and healthy food, the guy was impressive. To add to that he had a variation of tattoos and scars all over his body symbolizing different missions he had completed and comrades he had lost on the way. There was also a vale of mystery around him and his squad and their missions which made room for many speculations and jokes.

For example

_Fear of spiders is arachnophobia, fear of tight spaces is claustrophobia, fear of Stilinski and his men is Logic._

Or his personal favorite…

_Stilinski died 5 years ago, Death just hasn't built up the courage to tell him yet._

The stories and legends his person constantly seems to sprout are wild and mystical because of the lack of personal information about the man. No one knows where he comes from, where he grew up or if he even has family… He dodges those questions effortlessly.

'Clear the room.' He says in an unyielding authority. In a minute he is alone in the tent and sitting behind the desk that had been set up for him. He was wondering who it could possibly be because there were only few people back in DC who knew he was even on this continent.

He stated clearly and slowly: 'This is Alpha – Zero – Zero - Kilo – Tango – Fox please state your identification code and purpose as you are actively going against protocol I have received for this mission.'

Silence.

_'Stiles, it's me.' Said a woman's voice hurriedly. _

_'Silverman?'_

_'Yeah, please do not interrupt; I need to be quick with this. I was keeping tabs on your father and the town Beacon Hills as I promised. There has been an incident. I think you should go home as soon as you can. .. And Stilinski?'_

_'Yeah?'_

_'I consider my dept paid.'_

_Static._

He put the phone down on the table and sighed. He needed to call Operations asap and cancel the mission. It had been compromised by a few factors now anyway. They will not be happy about this and he had reservations if they were ever going to have another opportunity like this but he also needed to go and see his father.

He needed Percy's help if he wanted to convince them…

Stiles was sitting on a cargo plane to DC and thinking. He cannot just waltz back to Beacon Hills. He was not sure what the situation back home is and what the pack would do on his arrival. He had last seen his Pops six months ago when they met up at aunt Bessie's. They talked and laughed and drank beer and watched television together. That is what they did. Every six months they did this. And every time they tried their best to avoid a wide area of topics starting with Mom and finishing with Beacon Hills and everything that went in-between. He never asked about anyone and his Dad never brought them up. It was easier like that and besides, his past was under lock and key under 6 feet of mud and blood and sweat and tears and he is never going to dig it up, never.

What he needed was a plan. And he knew the perfect person to help him. Percy. His … whatever he was to him. They had been partners, friends and occasional lovers but above all Perseus was his confidant and Stiles trusted him with his life. And he knew about werewolves.

It was a cool, crisp morning in Beacon Hills, the fog was rolling in over the parks and buildings of this small town. There was a blue sedan that was quietly making its way towards the most inconspicuous motel the people in the Volvo could find. They parked in front of the reception and slowly made their way in, paid in cash and took several duffel bags into their shared room.

It was quiet again for an hour or so until the morning traffic hit and the good people of Beacon Hills started to make their way to their workplaces.

**DANNY's POV**

He could not believe that Derek was forcing them to have a pack meeting BEFORE work. He was walking on thin ice as it is with his boss and he did not need this yet again. He lost his last two jobs because 'his priorities seemed to be off.'

Goddamn right his priorities were off when there had been seven years of peace and quiet with no supernatural activity whatsoever and now there was something going on.. AGAIN.

Thankfully whatever it was, it had not yet manifested into heights that it could not be contained. Or so he thought. Up until now these 'attacks' had been very low-key. A couple of robberies and vandalisms that did not even occur on Derek's radar up until he went to the scene of a crime of a thrift shop robbery. That's right, a thrift shop robbery. And then he caught wind of a scent that belonged to an unfamiliar werewolf.

As the sheriff he soon discovered multiple low-level crime scenes that stank like this werewolf and made Derek's Stranger-Danger bells go off.

Apparently, yesterday, this werewolf manifested into assault and kidnapping. He went after old man Stilinski. The Sheriff (we still call him that) was fine apart from some minor cuts and bruises but the conversation these two had was very intriguing indeed.

The Omega's only agenda was to know the current location of the one called Stiles Stilinski.


End file.
